


Whispering

by skatzaa



Series: Gabriel [5]
Category: The Scorpio Races - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Gabriel Connolly I Am Going To Personally Kick Your Ass If No One Else Beats Me To It, Gen, The Kitchen Scene, The Truth Is A Matter Of Perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 21:28:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14317521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skatzaa/pseuds/skatzaa
Summary: In the Grattons’ bright kitchen, it is easy to forget the promises I have made to Tommy, Peg, and myself in the past. It’s easy to step up behind Peg, who still stands at the stove, and curve my body around hers so I can catch the scent of the soap she prefers to use but still not touch her.





	Whispering

**Author's Note:**

> This is different from the others. I'm not sure how to make it not-different. Also I'm really starting to regret the fact that I wanted to keep all these titles similar *eyeroll*
> 
> It's short, naturally, but it's a fic. Oh Gabriel, why are you like this?

GABE

In the Grattons’ bright kitchen, it is easy to forget the promises I have made to Tommy, Peg, and myself in the past. It’s easy to step up behind Peg, who still stands at the stove, and curve my body around hers so I can catch the scent of the soap she prefers to use but still not touch her. It is easy to tilt my head down and to the side, so my mouth hovers next to her ear. It is easy to ignore the commotion in the living room behind us.

It is less easy to ignore the sound of Tommy’s voice, bright and loud with happiness, or the knowledge that it would hurt him, dearly, were he to stumble into the kitchen at this moment, but it is not enough to make me step back.

“Gabriel,” Peg warns me, but that isn’t a deterrent either, because I know what she sounds like when she’s truly angry, and this isn’t it. I’ve heard her screaming herself hoarse, and I’ve heard the way her voice cracks when she’s holding back tears. This isn’t any of these things. This is just Peg, resolute and uncompromising.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been strong enough to keep my promises,” I tell her. Again, Tommy’s voice drifts in from the living room, louder and sharper this time.

I feel rather than see the tension go out of Peg’s shoulders, her body relaxing just enough that the back of her shirt brushes the front of mine.

“You haven’t not kept them either,” she says, and then sighs. It’s a pitiful excuse for my behavior these past months, and we both know it.

I brace my left hand on the counter and she stirs the soup with her right.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I say, “directly or indirectly.”

Peg is quiet at that, and I do not know how to interpret her silence, even now. Then, she asks, “Is that why you’re leaving Thisby?”

We haven’t talked about this. In fact, we have worked very hard to avoid this topic for weeks now. I cannot fathom why she has brought it up now, when her son and my siblings and _Tommy ,_  most of all, are just feet away, separated from us by only an open doorway. Though she doesn’t know the exact nature of my relationship with Tommy, she is shrewd enough to have picked up on some part of it by now, and that almost makes this worse.

Despite all that, I don’t answer her question, because I still remember the last time we stood in this kitchen, when she demanded that I tell her no lies in her own house. I _don’t_ want to hurt her, and that is part of the reason I want to leave, but it is an incomplete truth at best, just as the reasons I gave Finn and Puck, and Tommy as well, are incomplete.

There’s no single motive for leaving, and there’s no complete truth I can tell any one person.

I wonder if that’s a sin, but if it is, it will stay between me and God.

Peg hooks the end of the ladle on the edge of the pot so it doesn’t fall in and turns to face me, her hair hitting my nose and cheek as she moves. She’s close enough that I can feel the warmth of her breath. I pull back a few inches, so I can look her in the eye as we speak, and press my right hand to her waist to help her stay steady this close to the stove.

“Gabriel,” she says again, voice softer this time. Her hand comes up and she touches two of her fingers to my cheek. “You don’t have to do this. Is leaving really the best option?”

But I do, and it is, or at least it feels as though it is, and she must see something of that on my face, because her hand falls away. I stare at her, helpless, because a part of me _does_ want to stay, for her and my siblings, but it isn’t enough.

“Gabe.” And that’s Tommy, his voice low and flat. I spin on my heel, and out of habit, my hand slides around to the small of her back. I pull it away nearly as quickly, but it’s not fast enough to stop the devastation that flits across his expression when he sees. It’s there and gone in a moment, but I know him better than anyone on this island. Then, voice just as toneless as before, he adds, “They’re asking after dinner.”

“It’s done, you can call them in,” Peg answers him, and she moves away from me toward the cupboard where they keep their plates. Tommy, too, turns away, back to the others in the next room. I’m left standing alone between them, knowing I’ve hurt them both, but not how to fix either situation, if it can be fixed at all. And I know that there's no one to blame but myself.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comments and kudos are cherished gifts.
> 
> Read On,  
> Skats


End file.
